Never Stop
by Vanacorien
Summary: Trowa was an ordnary if lonely doctor until one night in the rain a battered younge man literaly crashes inot his life, As time passes he begins to feel for the obviously wounded young man but will that be enough to heal the wounds time couldn't?
1. Default Chapter

Never stop.  
  
By: Vanacorien  
  
Warnings for violence, language, attempted rape and abuse. This is a 3+4 fic it is also rated R for reasons previously stated. This IS Yaoi, which means boy/boy and man/ man. You don't like it, deal. This is angsty and also AU, no gundams or crazy men from a military branch of government. The first chapter of this fic is a song fic.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the gundam boy's, girl's or mecha (thou it'd be fun as hell to take death scythe to school) Oh I'm poor as dirt too, so really besides getting my a$$ thrown in jail what would you accomplish? That's what I thought. Sit back and enjoy.  
  
*****  
  
Chapter one. Immortal pain in turquoise eyes.  
  
I'm so tiered of being here.  
  
He trudged down the large sidewalks bumping into people as he went. Head bent excepting the lashing of the icy rain on his back and shoulders beating painfully into his raw exposed skin. He walked steadily. Droned really his eyes looking far away and clouded with their own inner shadows. He was soaking wet, his too long for the latest fashion, hair hanging limply in his eyes, a sobbing curtain hiding his face.  
  
Suppressed by all my, childish fears.  
  
Why was he here right now? Because of what they've done. Who? Who did some thing to me? All of them, they've all done some thing to me. He listened to his voice inside his own head. He didn't worry; he knew it wasn't that some thing was wrong with him. He just needed some thing to talk to. He knew what he was talking about. All of them had done some thing. They just couldn't take it. They didn't want to wait any more. They didn't want to be in a relation ship with a cold fish. They didn't want to wait for him to heal. "Why can't you wait till I'm ready?" He always cried. It was always him who ended up crying. Into the wee hours of the morning.  
  
And if you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave.  
  
"I don't want to wait any more, you've kept me waiting long enough." He fell back on the bed just slightly alarmed. Why was he acting this way? What was he going to do if he said no one more time? What if he . . . No he couldn't even think that. "What do you mean?" He said trying to smile innocently, it had always worked before. A calloused hand snaked out and grabbed the front of his shirt. Pulling him to his feet and crushing him to the owner of said hand.  
  
Cause your presence still lingers here, and it wont leave me alone.  
  
"I wont play games with you any more kid. I want you, all of you no more of these nights sleeping with you and not touching you, not any of these little make out sessions that you think count. I've been with you for almost a year and I haven't gotten any thing once, were putting a stop to that right now!" The young man cried out in alarm the sound choked off all too soon as cruel bruising lips crushed his own. The ma pushed him down onto the bed taking one flailing wrist in his strong hand he held it above his victim as he began to use the other appendage to tear open the boys cress shirt. The boy cried out when his mouth was released, his lover laid fully on top if him then viciously biting and licking his neck.  
  
These wounds wont seem to heal.  
  
He began running, running away from the memory only born hours before. Running away from the pain still audible upon his neck and chest from the blows landed to keep him still and silent. The pain in his freezing scalp from his hair being cruelly pulled. The harsh bite marks on his neck and shoulders, the bloody half crescents left by blunt fingernails as they were dug into his wrists and fore arms. He bulled blindly threw the crowds hearing the angry voices and muttered curses as her blew past. His fast break neck pass sent cold wet air around him billowing out his torn shirt to reveal to his shame and horror the marks of his weakness, his un worthiness. Newer hotter tears trailed down his pale face as he bulled farther fore ward.  
  
This pain is just too real, there's just too much that time cannot erase.  
  
Trowa was walking out of a small down town coffee shop when it happened. He barely had time to see the young man before he had barreled into Trowa. The ground was slick under his feet, tears from the bloated black clouds adding to his already melancholy mood. He slipped back wards the young boy tumbling on top of him with a startled cry. Trowa braced him self on his elbows, the hard cement causing him to lose feeling in his elbows stunning him from the pain.  
  
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears.  
  
He stared up a moment in utter and stunned silence, the boy had landed sprawled over his hip's slim thighs encasing his and his bleeding palms splayed across Trowa's chest. Wait, bleeding palms? He took in the boys appearance immediately, his once white cotton dress shirt now a transparent mess all the front buttons torn of one dangling forlornly from a near gone string. Exposing his slim muscled chest that was covered in black and purple bruises. Dark marks like scarlet crescents reigned on his neck and shoulders. As he looked further north he took in the paleness of the boys face, a thin line of congealed blood ran from one corner of the pink full lips to the tip of his slightly bruised elfin chin. And the boy's wide luminous eyes were raining hot salty tears down the smooth unblemished cheeks and onto the already soaked collar of his destroyed shirt.  
  
When you scream I'd fight away all of your fears.  
  
The boy's eye's snapped wide coming out of what ever exhaustion driven trance he had been in when Trowa reached up and gently whipped away a tear. He began to scramble unsteadily from Trowa's lap, muttering apologies in a slightly trembling voice. 'Don't go.' Thought Trowa suddenly and grabbed lightly onto the boys wrist. The boy turned startled eyes onto him then tugged harshly at his hand hissing when Trowa's palm rubbed the cuts on his wrist. He tugged again harder this time trying to turn enough to run. "No, don't" He commanded gently, using the boy's pull to his advantage he used the resistance to pull him self quickly to his feet. He must have been a good 5 or 6 inches taller than the slim elfin youth in front of him. It gave the distinct impression that this person was fragile and Trowa didn't like the way this boy appeared to be treated.  
  
"It's all right I wont hurt you, "Trowa soothed. "Can you tell me what's wrong? Do you need help?" He glanced over the blond's head to see if he was being pursued. Realizing immediately that he was being ridiculous, if the boy were in fact being pursued then they would have caught up by now.  
  
And I've held your hand threw all these years  
  
He gently removed his coat, making sure not to startle the seemingly feral youth as he draped it around the boy's petit frame. He really could only be a boy too, no more than eighteen Trowa would swear on it. The boy looked up quickly eyes wide and startled as the material settled heavily on his shoulders. Trowa placed a placating hand on the boys shoulder. "It's alright, are you okay? Do you feel any pains?" He asked calmly. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, didn't like the road his mind was taking from the sight of this boys appearance and obvious distress to the bruises that littered his pale and delicate looking body.  
  
The boy looked into Trowa's eyes, they were half lidded and riddled with a pain so intense Trowa had to refuse the urge to step back before it consumed him. The boy's skin was fine, pale as cream and dusted slightly with almost nonexistent freckles across the bridge of his pert nose. His soft fey cheeks were redden with the cold and his eyes, those pain filled dazzling orbs were red rimmed and flowing with more tears. His bow shaped lips parted allowing a little puff of breath threw the cherry blossom pink lips. Suddenly the boy lowered his head almost shame fully, swaying slightly on his feet.  
  
But you still have,  
  
"Will you," He spoke so softly Trowa had to strain to hear. His mind running fast as the boy's petit body began to go limp. "Will you please, help me?"  
  
All of me.  
  
Stunned as the boy collapsed in his arms, Trowa caught him deftly and hoisted him into his arms. What the hell? Trowa then hoisted the boy tighter into his embrace swinging him into his arms bridal style; he walked quickly towards the street in hopes of hailing a cab. Holding tightly to the now unconscious boy in his arms he wrapped the coat slightly tighter around his charges slim frame and darted across the busy street. A dark wraith carrying his battered angel into the night.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
A.N.: So what do you think? Is it good so far? Oh and no, Quatre was not raped, as I said before it was attempted but it didn't happen. Oh and for all you who recognized or wanted to know, this song is My Immortal by Evanescence. More details in upcoming chapters so tell me if you like it or not and you'll see more of it. Thanks for tuning in and see you next time. *Owari~ 


	2. chapter Two:

Never Stop By: Vanacorien  
  
Authors notes: Wow!! I got so many reviews for this story I decided to post the second chapter of this rather than the second chap of Q-Chan in wonderland. Don't worry thou, Q-chan in wonderland is still going to be updated before the end of March.  
  
Warning's and Disclaimers: I do not own the gundam wing boys or girls; I jus take them off the shelf and play with 'em for a while. This is glorious yaoi, this also has an R rating for violence, language, sex and or sexual situations, and last but not least some pretty deep angsty stuff. Any questions? Lights, cameras, action!!  
  
Chapter Two of Never Stop: With the dawn comes the light.  
  
He couldn't tell what exactly had awakened him, maybe the smell of the peroxide so close to his head or the soft almost non-existent hum of the radio. When he came to awareness his first questions weren't the normal ones a person would think or feel. No non consequential 'where am I' or how did I get here?' 'S a simple 'why don't I hurt that much?' was the only bat swarming the proverbial bell free.  
  
Slowly he sat up, knowing that after a beating such as he had taken and the time spent out in the rain, he would or should be stiff and achy as all hell. He looked around the room, taking in every thing, it was wide and open not what he had expected to find at his friends house. In fact he knew for a fact that his friend didn't have a single room like this in his little town house.  
  
The walls were painted a deep dark blue, the trim left white to circle the room and give note to the high ceiling painted with a midnight sky and the moon and stars. To his right there was an enormous set of windows covered by plain navy curtains. And the bed he now laid in was king sized, the soft cotton sheet warmed his skin and the deep forest green comforter on the bed broke the strain of blue monotony.  
  
"I see your up." His head shot up immediately and he gave a startled jump. He looked to the door way his eyes catching first on the man's hair. It was cinnamon brown; the pale light showing dimly threw the curtains glowing generously on his locks shining them red and gold in some places. It was long, a bit longer than his in the front, shortened in the back like he wore it. His narrow green eyes one of which was barely visible beneath his bangs were sparkling. He sat and stared for a moment, slightly mesmerized by the man's look. He was tall, probably much taller than him self, his frame was slim but well muscled. He obviously hadn't been up long, he was still wearing his pajama's a pair of black silk pants hanging off of his lean hips, it's mate a black silk top hung open exposing his chest and the slightly tanned skin and muscle.  
  
He was surprised at his own voice, he sounded shaky, unstable. Flashes of what had happened had been swarming around his head sense he'd woken up. The only thing to dispel the warm almost safe feeling he had hidden deep within him. Now they came back only slightly as he tried to remember what part this man had played. "Who are you?" the man snorted a laugh and walked right into the room. Quatra discovered why his eyes had seemed to sparkle as he approached. He was wearing a thin wire frame pair of glasses the silver circles giving him a slight book wormy air. As he approached the bed He sat up straighter in it. Looking a little concerned but not really that frightened.  
  
"That's definitely not the first question I expected to hear." He said calmly, his voice was deep and smooth; it dripped a kind of honey made sweetness that he had never heard before. The man slowly sat on the side of the bed rubbing his hands together and reaching out he touched his face. The boy jumped back cracking his head sharply against the headboard and yipping in pain. Gentle hands came to rest on top of his as they smoothed over the abused patch of skin. He looked into those deep green eyes, feeling a strange calm radiating from them, from him. "Who are you?" He sounded so slightly petulant, no doubt this man thought him a child by now. Or at least childish.  
  
Said man smiled slightly, then turned his face into a mask of stone and moved slightly away from him. "I am Trowa Barton, I'm a doctor at Manhattan hospital. I, well to tell the full truth you crashed into me and shortly there after passed out. I didn't know who you were and instead of going to the hospital, I brought you home and cleaned your wounds." He reached over and picked a small glass thermometer off the surface of the nightstand he hadn't seen. He shook it for a moment and the held it out to him. He accepted it, sliding the cold metal tip under his tongue feeling a slightly nauseas sensation.  
  
"Now, Mr. Winner, or may I call you Quatra?" He looked up sharply his eyes wide. "Mph hmm, humph." The man, Trowa, gave Quatra a semi stern glance his eyes sparkling slightly. "No talking Mr. Winner, not until your time is up." Quatra imagined he made some thing of a glare on his face for the man then laughed his mask breaking slightly to show a beautiful smile. He moved off the bed, and Quatra felt a slight loss of warmth, but didn't miss the gain of personal space, it was a hard tie. "I think you might be more comfortable were your doctor fully clothed, so I'll be right back, and don't take out that thermometer." Trowa walked gracefully from the room then, leaving Quatra to his thoughts.  
  
Trowa walked threw the broad hallway of his apartment towards his laundry room. Not having much time and not by nature being an especially clean person he didn't really bother to fold or put away his clothes. The only clothes he had in his closet were two dress suits, one for weddings and one for funerals and a couple of coats for the changes in season. Coming into the open door he slid the black silk off of his shoulders, not caring that he was stripping in his laundry room, which had more than one bare window. He smiled slightly as he remembered an incident not too long ago. He had bought his small flat in his junior year in college, having been tiered of the dorms and wanting to get out on his own, and had at first not minded the Porte Rican family whom had a similar room right across from his over looking the narrow ally between the two buildings. There was an old widow, and her two youngest daughters who had at the time been 10 and 16. Ha had been out drinking and dancing with two of his collages and had come home smashed. Instead of going to bed however to sleep it off, he had gone into the laundry room where he had a small radio, found an oldies station and began to dance and strip.  
  
The next morning as he was walking out of his building heading to the post office as both young girls ran out side and rushed hurriedly to his side. The 16 year old couldn't help but smile knowingly and make barely veiled remarks concerning his package. While the10 year old wanted to know what had been attacking him and why did he have to have his clothes off while it did it. Needless to say he had been more than a little embarrassed and had to explain to the girl that, nothing had 'attacked' him and he had just gotten done taking a shower and was drying off in a strange way.  
  
Trowa was called back from his musings by a quit cough. He turned around finding the boy, Mr. Winner to be standing quietly in the hallway. The pure beauty that he saw in front of him again froze Trowa. To keep him from getting sick Trowa had changed him as soon as he got home, he had taken his sobbing clothes, placing the shirt aside if the boy wanted it back (thou god knows why any one would want some thing like that) And so all he wore was one of his older brothers stretched out Tee shirts and a pair of boxers decorated in little tweety birds.  
  
The shirt nearly buried the petit man enveloping him in a practical tent of cottony fabric, while the boxers more than long enough showed slim and slightly muscular legs tapering to trim ankles and small feet. In his line of work he saw many people, but he could say with all and absolute honesty that the young man standing in front of him was indeed the most beautiful thing he had seen.  
  
"I believe my tempter is normal." He said, looking away and holding the thermometer out for Trowa to take it. Trowa took the instrument back curiously, looked at it and raised an eyebrow, and then back up to face the boy, Mr. Winner, oh hell he'd just think of him as Quatra from no on. "Only if you're normal body tempter is 100 and 5 degrees Mr. Winner." The young man blushed dark red and suddenly found a great new interest in the hard wood. Trowa sighed once again and set the instrument lightly on the still washing machine. "Mr. Winner," He began "Please don't call me that," He said suddenly looking up. "It makes me feel so, old. Please call me Quatra."  
  
Trowa nodded in consent and began again. "Mr., Quatra," He said quickly amending himself. "You have a fever, that alone would concern me but my concern is also founded in the fact that you were severely if not savagely beaten." Quatra looked up again as a shadow moved deep within his eyes, giving Trowa a warning as to how far he should push the venue for that subject. He held up his hands as if in surrender. "And I will not ask for any answers that you are unwilling to give. I am not a policeman. I am how ever a licensed and trained fission and I recommend that you stay here at least a little while longer if for no other reason than to assuage a strangers concern." Quatra shook his head his eyes sparkling slightly. "I couldn't impose upon you like that, really I'm fine a slight fever wont kill me and I was only blocks away from my destination when I, when we." He broke off unsure, and then looked into Trowa's eyes his own slightly startled. "How did I end up in your apartment? Besides bumping into you I don't remember much after that." The buzzer of the dryer sounded suddenly and Quatra jumped. Trowa turned his back on the young man and opened the door with a shrill metallic squeak. Reaching in he pulled out his white 'wife beater' shirt shaking his head as the moronity of the name came to mind. Pulling the shirt down over his head, he pulled it over his abs and turned back around to face Quatra who had diverted his eyes to the floor, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. "You passed out in the middle of the side walk. I didn't think you wanted the blare and glare of a hospital, that and the fact that the closest one around isn't exactly five stars. So I hailed a cab and took you home."  
  
Quatra looked faintly appalled at the end of Trowa's explanation and Trowa wondered if it was toward him or him self. For some reason the idea that this man might be appalled with him didn't suit him at all. "I am so sorry to have put some thing like that upon you." He said suddenly his eyes wide and ashamed. "You must have been so put out, I really think." "If your going to say that you think you should go, I really will be put out with you." Said Trowa softly. Quatra's mouth snapped shut and his eyes widened even more. He looked utterly innocent and completely baffled. He was so adorable. 'You gutter head', he chastened him self.  
  
Standing to his full height, he crossed his arms over his chest and gave the shorter boy a look he used on disorderly patients. "Now I am going to say this once and only once, you are in NO condition to leave this place and I will not let you. I am at no inconvenience what so ever. I am not angry with you that you are in the situation that you are and I am not 'put out'." Quatra blushed pink and returned to looking at the floor. Trowa thought he caught a faint fluttering of the blond mans eyes lashes but he wasn't sure, so he continued with his short tirade. "I can understand you not being comfortable with this, I really can," He said softening a little, not wanting to insult or hurt the young man. In fact many of the patients he had treated had had problems staying in the hospital, one to the extent that he had tried to break out only to nearly have been run over by his doctor when the nurses monitoring the main frame computer at the station had seen that his heart monitor had stopped.  
  
"But I will not allow you to go wandering around New York looking like you just got mugged and feeling like your about to pass out." As he said the last the man looked up and Trowa saw the sudden droop of his eyes and the wobbliness in his stance. Before Trowa could say anything more the blond boy pitched side ways and hit the wall with a dull 'thump'. Before he could slide to the floor Trowa was by his side grabbing him by the shoulders he pinned Quatra to the wall briefly and tried to decide weather or not to carry him or simply let him lean on him. Quatra slowly raised his head and smiled gently, his azure eyes shining with what Trowa was positive were tears. "I suppose I can say point taken and concede you the field on this one, Mr. Barton." Trowa smiled and hooked Quatra's are over his shoulders hoisting the shorter man up, trying to stoop low enough so that he didn't pull on Quatra's arm. He smiled slightly him self and wrapped his arm lightly around the petit blonds waist. "I accept you concession on the grounds that you call me Trowa, if you aren't a Mr. Then neither am I." He then walked slowly towards his bedroom aware of the way Quatra was sagging more and more. Finally Quatra went totally limp and Trowa sighed, swinging him gracefully into his arms as he did so. Now, if only all his other arguments ended with him carrying his lover into the bedroom. Then he'd get somewhere.  
  
Again he sighed remembering that one would have to obtain said lover first, and then worry about arguments. Laying the unconscious blond gently on the bed, he pulled the covers back up and sat beside him, checking his pulse and then feeling his fore head. As he looked down at the gentle expression sleep brought to the already gentle face. Trowa couldn't help feeling the stirring of emotions. Oh yeah, lover first, arguments later.  
  
AN: So whatcha think? I was really mad at my computer cause I had originally written this chapter a bit differently but it erased it and I had to start from zill. But I think this one is satisfactory. Any who as long as you enjoyed it that's good too right? Well in any case thanks for reading and remember, keep that encouragement coming in. ~Owari~ 


	3. Chapter Three

Never Stop By: Vanacorien  
  
Warnings: Yaoi angst, R rating for violence adult language and sex/sexual situations. The pairing is 3*4. I do not now nor have I ever-owned Gundam Wing; I just kidnap the bishi's and hold them captive for a while.  
  
Author's notes: Now that I have an editor, all my chappies should be grammatically correct. At least I can hope so. I at least try to spell right any way. If you see any blaring errors please tell me, other than that I think were all-good. In any case bu~ bye and enjoy the ride!!  
  
Chapter Three of Never Stop: On the road to healing, the first bump.  
  
It had been three days since he had collapsed (for the second time no) less into Trowa's arms, and the brunet Doctor still refused to let him leave his apartment. Albeit Trowa now let him out of bed, but he insisted that he still remain on a liquid diet because; though his fever had broken two days ago, he had shortly after developed a cough. Trowa estimated that it was because of his weakened state and the fact that he had been wondering around New York City half dressed on a rainy October night. Trowa had not asked any questions about him, neither his state of near undress nor his appearance of having, as he so delicately put it 'that just mugged' look. For which Quatre was very grateful.  
  
Quatre himself was still having trouble coping with it. It had not been the first time one of his lovers had gotten angry or tired of him. No, that seemed to be a sport of sort. Break down the young blonde's defenses then blow up at him in a fit of pent up sexual furry, and then lash out in some way, though no one had ever lashed out with fists before. Sighing at the turmoil in his mind, Quatre rose from his bed in the guest room and walked steadily down the hallway towards the kitchen. He heard the faint sputter of Trowa's coffee pot and smiled slightly. The doctor always woke up before him. This was a bit of a wonder in his mind, because he normally didn't sleep in after 6:00a.m. on most days.  
  
He tied the green and blue flannel robe tighter around his waist; having borrowed it from Trowa it was far too big for him. And even when the belt was tied firmly it hung loosely on his hips most of the time. He sighed again, it was becoming a habit. He hated being petit. Trowa was sitting on one of the stools surrounding the island in the kitchen, the morning's paper spread out before him. Quatre cleared his throat discreetly, not wanting to startle the other person. Trowa nodded in his direction a small smile flitting across his handsome face. "Good morning Quatre." He said warmly looking up to him as he reached for his coffee cup.  
  
"Good morning Trowa, what are you still doing home." He inched closer to the coffee pot, hoping he could snag a cup before Trowa could notice. Being on a liquid diet of broth meant no caffeine, and if Quatre had to live one more day with out coffee he just might snap on the poor well-meaning doctor. Trowa looked directly at Quatre a small smile playing on his face. "I was given the day off, apparently I work too much. And I already have your orange juice set out right here, don't waste it." Quatre's shoulders slumped in incredulous defeat. Trowa laughed at the comical sight he presented, and took another sip of his coffee looking at him over his glasses. "You've been trying for the past three days; I don't expect you'd give up now."  
  
Quatre smiled shaking his head at the injustice of it all and sat down on the stool across from him. Taking a sip of his still cool orange juice he shuddered at the tart taste and didn't notice the way Trowa watched as he licked his lips attempting to get all of the sticky juice off. He set the glass down gently on the black marble top of the island and looked at Trowa for a minute twiddling his thumbs. "Trowa, I think there's something we need to discuss." Trowa looked up, laid the paper down, then re-shifted him self on the seat and picked up his coffee. "Of course, what's on your mind?" Quatre took a deep breath readying him; he really didn't have any choice in this. It was very kind of Trowa to be helping him like this but he couldn't keep being so hospitable forever. Nothing this good ever lasted longer than a year at most. "I'd like to return to my old apartment." He said in a great whoosh of breath. Trowa arched one brow elegantly and motioned with his mug to continue. "I can't keep excepting hospitality like this, and I certainly can't keep borrowing yours or your brothers' clothes."  
  
Trowa nodded sagely and set his cup down folding his hands in front of him, he then looked at Quatre hard. "That's not all." He said quietly, his forest green eyes were so expressive Quatre almost thought he saw a kind of urgency there. Quatre looked down at his hands; not wanting the other to see what he knew was mirrored in them. "Quatre," Trowa commanded softly. He looked up to see a softer expression on the doctor's face while Trowa's hand reached out to lightly touch his arm. "I cannot help if I don't know the situation." Quatre smiled shyly. "Mission analysis?" He said jokingly allowing a soft smile to grace his face. Trowa did not look amused. He put his head down on the counter top, repressing the urge to sigh.  
  
"Well, I suppose what you mean is my . . . nervousness?" Quatre knew he was purposely stuttering and hesitating. Just so that Trowa might get bored, say forget it, and leave him alone to face his shame and humiliation with out an audience. He heard an impatient sigh and had just a second to look up before his nose nearly bumped Trowa's. Quatre tried to jerk back but the stern look in Trowa's eyes stopped him "Quatre," He said slowly, his eyes never leaving the others'. While Quatre wondered lamely if this was what prey saw before the predator pounced, he doubted that normal prey ever had such a good-looking predator. "I have a very bad feeling that the one who did this to you is going to be at that apartment." As Trowa said this calmly, Quatre's face burned. He then broke eye contact, looking off to the left while shielding his eyes behind his bangs. "It's not what you think," He said quietly. "It's not really my apartment it's his. But I have some very important things in there and I need to get them. You don't have to worry. I'm not asking you to come with me, that'd be too-"Quatre's eyes widened in surprise as a soft yet firm hand gripped his chin forcefully and pulled his face back up to stare at now cool green eyes. The fingers on his chin tilted his head up slightly and Trowa spoke loudly and clearly. "When are you going to realize Mr. Winner that you are, in no way, a bother to me? That if I was angry with you I wouldn't hesitate to either clock you or throw you into the hallway? I do not trouble myself with things that are meaningless or a waste of time Quatre. So stop telling me that you will not trouble me any more or that you don't want to burden me. If you were a burden then you wouldn't be here." Then why am I still here? Quatre thought sadly, pulling his chin from Trowa's now lax hold he slipped off the stool, taking his juice glass to the sink he set it in and rinsed it out. "You don't, understand Trowa." He said quietly, the glass now fully rinsed he turned the water off as he carefully dried off his hands on the dishtowel over the sink.  
  
Trowa moved to stand behind him, leaning on the island. "What don't I understand Quatre?" Quatre turned to him then, his eyes sparkling; as his cheeks took on a rosy pink hew. "You don't know me at all, how could you trust me so completely? How do you know that I'm not what I say I am?" Quatre looked to his feet again, willing the tears to go away and leave him alone. He was so damned emotional, he sometimes wondered if he really was a woman trapped in a mans body. Two strong hands settled one on each shoulder and Quatre brought his head up slightly so now he was looking at Trowa's chest and not his bare feet. "I know Quatre," Said Trowa softly and firmly. "Because I have never before had a guest who not only tries his best to stay out of the way, but almost tries to act as if he weren't even there." Quatre blushed and lowered his gaze once again. "That doesn't prove anything." He muttered miserably. He felt the sudden shake in Trowa's arms and looked up to find the taller man silently laughing.  
  
"Why are you laughing?" He asked somewhat indignantly. Trowa looked down upon him again, an amused light now present in his eyes. "You are absolutely right, it doesn't prove anything, but the fact still remains that I believe you are a good person let alone a bother. And that my friend is more than enough for me." Quatre looked up into Trowa's eyes blinking stupidly. Trowa moved his face slightly closer, leaning down in a way that seemed intimate. Then he smiled and patted Quatre on the shoulder. "Well get dressed Quatre, after all what better time than the present to claim your things." Trowa moved away from him and headed down the hallway to his room. "I'll meet you in the living room in 10 minutes, hurry though I have other things we can do once we get your things." Quatre's feeling of relief was short lived as soon as the word "we" was out of Trowa's mouth he found the small blond almost frantically jogging down the hall to him. "B-But Trowa I coul-"Trowa stopped dead still causing Quatre to bump lightly into the brunette's back smacking his nose smartly against Trowa's shoulder blades. Quatre began to protest as soon as Trowa turned around, but stopped as the coldness in his eyes came back with a vengeance.  
  
"Quatre," He said his voice once again firm. He nodded slightly. "If I don't go, you don't go. Understood?" He nodded his head weakly, backing up slightly. Suddenly the look was gone to be replaced with the mild amusement he normally saw there. "Good, see you in ten minutes." Quatre nodded dumbly as he turned and walked steadily down the hall to his own room. Oh for the love of all the gods, what have I gotten into?  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Trowa glanced over at Quatre as they proceeded to get closer and closer to their destination. His black mustang convertible hummed softly as they drove in the direction Quatre had spoken to him. Quatre sat subdued and silent in the passenger seat glancing almost fervently out the window at anything. Trowa wanted to ask if the blonde wanted to just get his things through the police, but knew he would never even think about it. Hell, he probably thought he'd be burdening the cops if he reported anything less than a triple homicide or a 20-man gang shooting. Trowa knew he was being unfair but he couldn't help it.  
  
They stopped at a light and Trowa glanced once again at the young man next to him. Quatre hadn't spoken to him anymore than necessary since leaving the house, and barely looked at him unless he thought he was going on unobserved. This hadn't been like the young man he had been talking to for the last three days. As Quatre's health had improved the boy had seemed less easy to spook. He didn't jump when touched any more, something that both relieved and informed Trowa. If Quatre had been taking abuse for a long time then he would still be flinching and even more nervous or worried than he now appeared to be. He had also spoken much more. He told Trowa that he had fled his apartment after a disagreement with his partner and had been hoping to make it to his friend's house in order to recuperate.  
  
For some reason beyond Trowa, the man seemed to believe that it was his fault that he had to leave in the first place. Trowa hadn't spoken of his thoughts on the subject to the sensitive young man, though. "Trowa." He glanced over at Quatre noticing with no small amount of trepidation that the boys face had gone slightly paler. "That, that's it right up there on the right," Trowa looked up ahead and saw the old brick building he was pointing to, it was one of those inner city slums, this one happened to be near little Italy. It may have once been a grand apartment complex some time in the fifties or sixties, but was turned into a less than grand brick structure with the over use of uncaring hands. It was made with a circular inner courtyard and a large black wrought iron gate encircling the whole of the building.  
  
Trowa pulled up to the curb, turning off the engine he withdrew the keys from the ignition and turned to look at Quatre. He was biting his lip nervously, the abused flesh turning into a deeper shade of pink than it was. His fingers were curling and uncurling on his thigh whilst digging into the jeans Trowa had let him borrow. He looks damn scared, and damn ready to bolt. "Quatre," He said cautiously. The blonde's head whipped around, eyes widened. "What?" Trowa's puzzlement must have shown on his face for the blonde looked back to his lap immediately. Trowa placed a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder and began to rub it soothingly in small circles. Quatre relaxed a little under his ministrations and let the tension in his shoulders drain out. He looked to Trowa to find warm green eyes upon him again. "Quatre, are you sure you want to do this? There are other ways to get your things; this is making you a nervous wreck." The boy smiled brightly, though Trowa could plainly see the doubt behind his eyes, the doubt and the tiny fragment of fear. "No Trowa, I'm sure I want to do this." Trowa nodded and opened his door. He got out and stood, looking around he could see a couple of street punks down the sidewalk from them and was glad he had put up the top. As soon as Quatre got out of the car he locked the doors and turned on the alarm.  
  
They both walked up the short stone steps to the gateway, and old intercom barely hanging onto the door crackled to life, as they grew closer. "Who is it?" The voice sounded decidedly young, as young as Quatre maybe, but there was a surely a bored note to it that clearly said 'I don't want to be here.' "Wufei?" Said Quatre hesitantly pressing lightly on the dirty button of the com. There was a pause of static on the other end then a slightly surprised. "Quatre?" Quatre sighed slightly relieved and pressed the button again smiling genuinely. "Well who else would it be silly? I came with uh," Quatre glanced back at Trowa who had been standing slightly behind him. Trowa smiled waving his fingers mockingly. "My uh, new friend." There was static again for a moment and then the gates shrieked with protest as they opened. "Come in; bring you Friend with you while you're at it."  
  
Quatre blushed slightly at the mocking tone in the boy's voice and led the way through the old courtyard. He walked briskly across the courtyard the place actually looking much better from the inside than the out. When they reached the double glass doors that lead to the actual building Trowa held the door open for the little blonde, after he scurried in under his arm Trowa stepped in behind him. The lobby of the building was done in a rich classic kind of way. Something you would think to find in little Italy. The walls and ceiling were trimmed with fine dark wood, sculpted and done delicately while the carpets that covered the green and white marble floors were a deep red trimmed with gold.  
  
On each side of the lobby there were two great staircases made of the same black wrought iron that the gates were, black and curving up with the architecture of the building. In the center of the back wall was a large cherry wood desk. Neat as a pin and decorated with a phone computer and what appeared to be security monitors. "Quatre?" The suddenness of another human voice startled even him for a moment and Towa was a little surprised at the youth on the top of the stairs. Granted Wufei was a Chinese or Japanese name but he hadn't expected the grand young man before him. He wore a white long sleeved shirt, stretched taunt across his chest and abdomen showing off a very well built body, and his lower half was encased in a pair of form fitting jeans. His hair was half up half down, jet black strands pushed gently behind delicate ears brushed his shoulders. A pair of thick wire framed glasses was perched precariously on the tip of his nose, and his bare feet padded softly as he tread down the carpeted stairs.  
  
He smiled brightly as he reached the bottom of the stairs and embraced Quatre hugging him tightly. "It IS you! You little punk! We were worried sick about you, you know? Why when we called Heero's to see if you went there and he said no, me and *Trey just about had a heart attack! And then we called your sisters and more than half of them were out of town and, oh what a mess!" Quatre laughed softly and Trowa looked downward a little abashed. He hadn't meant to make any one else worry. Quatre looked up from where the other boy had forced his head into his shoulder smiling brightly. Trowa wondered if he would need sunglasses. "No need to worry, I was heading for Heero and Duo's but, I, well, I didn't quite make it." He blushed slightly and looked down.  
  
The boy, Wufei, raised an ebony eyebrow and looked over Quatre's shoulder at Trowa with eyes the same onyx as his hair. "What happened?" He asked, he sounded like someone's mother hen, though Trowa admitted to feeling slightly that way toward the young man himself. "He ran into me and passed out; I'm a Doctor over at Manhattan Hospital, so I took him home with me and patched him up. I'm Dr. Trowa Barton by the way." Trowa extended his hand and Wufei took it, shaking it firmly. Quatre blushed harder and muttered some thing about an apology. "You don't have to apologize Quatre." Trowa said quietly. A strange look came onto Wufei's face, but he soon brushed it off and hugged Quatre tighter.  
  
"Well either way I'm glad you're safe. I'm Wufei Chang Kushrenada by the way. Myself and my, um, husband are the landlords of the apartment building." Trowa blinked slightly and Wufei blushed a bit for himself this time. It surprised him a little to hear that Wufei was 'married' but then again he supposed it shouldn't have surprised him so much. Quatre had told him that he was a homosexual, though he kind of suspected that from the start. He had seen many fights between men and women and had seen that damage a woman's fist could do as well as the damage a man's fist could. And Quatre had definitely been hit by a man's hand, which angered Trowa.  
  
Wufei looked back down to Quatre with a slight smile. "I guess this means you leaving huh?" He said a little sadly. Quatre's smile faded and he looked to his feet. There was an almost painful pause as Wufei shifted from foot to foot looking from me to him then back. Finally seeming unable to stand it he cleared his throat. "I'll get the keys for the apartment; we called the cops when we heard the noise so he's been gone for a while." Quatre nodded and Wufei turned to walk up the stairs Quatre following him. As Trowa went to follow, he felt a feather light brush on his shoulder. He looked up to see Quatre, his eyes shining almost pleading with his eyes for him not to follow.  
  
He nodded once and then looked up to Wufei. "I'll wait down here if you don't mind." Wufei nodded then suddenly fished a pair of keys from one of his pockets. "Here," He said tossing the keys to Trowa who caught them easily. "Why don't you go get Quatre's mail, it's in box number 004, the box number is on the key, and the mail boxes are right through that arch." Trowa nodded and saluted Quatre with the keys before turning his back on them. He walked quickly over the rich carpet and through the arch which Wufei had pointed. There were at least fifty or so mail boxes, black and made into the wall, it didn't take Trowa long to find Quatre's. After all when you started out with one how hard was it to find 004. He searched the ring for a moment and found the small brass key, inserting it and then turning it in the lock; he opened the little door wide and reached inside.  
  
As he sifted through the mail, and as he looked he remembered the name that he saw on most of the bills. Jason B. Hunter. Well now he knew the name, if only he could place a face he could then hate this man with all of his might. But then again what's in a face? He found two letters for Quatre in the pile of mail. One of them came from a woman by the scent, the other from a fairly prestigious medical supply company if he were correct, Hay's and Watkins. He put the rest of the mail back in, closing the door quietly and pocketing the two envelops. He was about to turn around when a cold metal object was pressed calmly against the base of his neck. "Don't move a muscle; I have every intention of using this weapon if you give me any cause. Is that clear?" The voice was a rich baritone, slightly accented and strong. Trowa raised his hands and moved to slowly turn around.  
  
As he did so he tensed ready to spring at the slightest misstep. He found himself looking down the cool point of a small switch blade. The cold metal blade gleamed brightly in the dim light. The man was as Trowa had expected him to be tall, a few inches taller than himself with a strong muscular build. His features were chiseled almost like someone had carved him from marble. His skin was slightly tanned and his hair rippled in gold and ginger waves. Two deep blue eyes looked unerringly back at his as one eye brow rose. "Don't tell me, a well to do looking person like you doesn't know it's a federal offense to steal others' mail?" Trowa blinked once, then twice. "Are you not going to answer my question?" Asked the man mockingly as he leveled the blade. Trowa stepped back a little as he relaxed his stance. "What would be the use, it was a rhetorical question. You didn't see how I took the mail did you?"  
  
The man's mouth quirked in a small smile and he lowered the blade some. "True it was a rhetorical question, but I'm glad you've decided to talk to me." Trowa smiled and held the keys up in his left hand so he could see them. "All the better to explain things with." He said, and tossed the keys to the man hoping his guess was right. The ginger man caught them easily still not with drawing the threat of the switch but not advancing it either. The man looked from him then to the keys, then to the small charm hanging form the ring. "I came in here with Quatre, he and Wufei went upstairs to the apartment and Wufei wanted me to get Quatre's mail."  
  
The man shook his head and smiled. Then with an expert flick of his wrist the blade was gone and the switch was secured into the back pocket of his pants. He reached out to take Trowa's hand and Trowa took his in turn both shaking firmly. "Why don't we start over?" He said gently a smile now shining all over his face. "I'm-" There was a sudden bang from the way of the stairs and we both whirled in time to hear a resilient thud and then a pained cry. There were more thuds and before he even knew it both Trowa and the ginger haired man were racing up the stairs. They had both just graced the top when Trowa heard a loud cry "Trowa!" He looked up, and the sight that greeted him made his blood run cold. "Quatre hold on!"  
  
Authors notes: Hahahaha! I left you at a cliff hanger! I'm evil! I have a question, does any one look at any of the authors bios? Because I posted a poll on mine and no one has responded yet! Wahhh! Would you guys be so kind as to visit my bio page and take my poll? Thank you. I'll try to update as soon as I can. Thanks  
  
Extra Note: * I know his name is Treiz, but I thought it'd be cute to have Wufei call him by some nick name cause Treiz calls Wufei Dragon all the time. Just some Fluffiness from my fav pair! ^_^ Couldn't resist! Any who, I'll update soon, and please Take my pole!!  
  
~Owari* 


	4. Chapter Four

Never stop, By: Vanacorien.  
  
Warnings and Disclaimers: Yaoi angst, R rating for violence adult language and sex/sexual situations. I do not own the Gundam boys Sam I am I do not like Green eggs and ham.  
  
A/N: I am soooooo sorry for not updating sooner! I have had so much bull going on you wouldn't believe half of it! And I know you guys are going to kill me but I have some bad news; I'm leaving the 27th of June for Mexico and I won't be back until the 11th of July. Please don't hate me because I'm taking my lap top with me so that I can continue writing. Hey I have to have some thing to do on the flight from Maryland to Houston and so on and so forth. I am very sorry for the delay in update and will repent fully. Thanks and enjoy!  
  
Chapter Four of Never Stop: The Furry of the Failed and the Pain of the Scorned  
  
Wufei lead Quatre up the grand stairs and down a long, thin hallway, turning to the right at a forked corner, he patiently waited for Quatre to catch up and pounced immediately. "How could you not tell us you had another boyfriend!?" He hissed with a slightly bemused disapproving look on his face. Quatre stared for a moment before blushing a deep beet red, sputtering. "Trowa's not my boy friend!" He quickly pushed past his friend toward the last line of doors leading to his apartment. Wufei was in hot pursuit and began berating him with questions. Wufei out of nature was a great worrier especially when it came to his friends, which also meant he was very nosey. Especially about Quatre, whom he had always had a certain brotherly fondness for, which is why he was attacking this with the same zeal as a dog would a juicy bone. When Wufei asked for the third time if they had slept together, Quatre was sure that he would have died on the spot from embarrassment if they hadn't just reached his door.  
  
Grabbing the keys from Wufei's limp hand, he scowled at the Chinese man who went unaffected by the display. Sighing heavily, he turned around facing Wufei fully. "Trowa is not my boyfriend, I mean, I know what it must have looked like with me showing up with him, but he refused to let me go alone. He said if he didn't go, I didn't go. And that he didn't feel right letting me go back to the place where . . . where my attacker might be staying." Wufei then quirked an eyebrow at Trowa's insistence to come with Quatre, but nodded in agreement just as well. Quatre turned again and opened first the dead bolt lock he himself had put on, and then the regular door lock mandatory for all the apartment doors.  
  
Pushing the plain mahogany door open he looked into the apartment his eyes scanning some what worriedly around the place. The front door opened into the living room, a large tan leather couch sat cozy against one wall while two beaten arm chairs were set in front of it, facing the TV. There was no coffee table. The living room spilled over into the dinning room/kitchen with an old electric stove and a small glass table set. The counters were an old rosy pink and the tiles on the lower part of the walls, a dusty sage green.  
  
Quatre remembered for a few seconds what it had been like when he first came to live with Jason. He had been so happy. He had been living at his old family home in Manhattan for a while and though he knew they wouldn't say anything, he felt that his father and uncle were a bit worried about him. Which was why moving in with his boyfriend had been such a good idea. The first few months had been hectic; Jason hadn't wanted Quatre to move in too much of his belongings, not wanting it to seem too 'permanent'. Though they had been seeing each other for two years, so Quatre had only moved in a few of his pictures, some changes of clothes, and a few of his other necessities. After that, Jason asked that he begin to make half the rent payments, which he himself only thought fair. He was living there after all. He was even somewhat thankful for that, as it introduced him to Wufei and Treize. After that however, things started getting dark and going downhill fast.  
  
"Quatre are you alright?" Startled out of his reminiscing he looked up quickly to find his friend's shining onyx eyes trained on his, with worry evident in the frown on his face and the crease of his brow. Quatre put on his best fake smile, clapping his hands loudly he nodded and said. "I'm fine Wufei, now lets get to work!"  
  
Exactly fifteen minuets later Quatre and Wufei were both leaving the apartment. It took less time than they had thought it would, in truth Quatre hadn't had all that much to move into the apartment in the first place. As Quatre and Wufei walked from the bedroom and into the living room Wufei looked questioningly at the small file folder box that held all of Quatre's possessions from the apartment. "Are you sure that's everything Quatre?" Quatre smiled and nodded, shifting the box in his arms slightly as he shuddered. It had suddenly gotten a little colder in the room, but he didn't pay it much mind. "I didn't take much from my father's house, and well, Jason didn't want me to move too much of my things in here. He said it felt like too much commitment at once. He didn't want me to move much of my stuff in here so he could keep as much of his as possible." Wufei scowled his face going dark.  
  
"Disgusting barbarian! You know Quatre, I'm very glad that you made it out of here in time that night. If he was cruel to you before that, I don't know what he would have done to you had he caught you." He shivered again not totally from the chill this time. Quatre frowned in puzzlement. Where was that coming from? "Hey Wufei," He began; Wufei suddenly stiffened and motioned for silence. Quatre obeyed without question, watching as Wufei's face went dark. Suddenly he was urging Quatre to the door saying loudly. "Well that's enough business in here now. We should head down stairs, Trowa might be waiting." He pushed Quatre none too gently out the door. Shutting it firmly and locking it from the outside in his wake. He turned back to Quatre urgently taking the box from his friend's hands. "Wufei what in the world-?" "There was someone in there!" He hissed, Quatre's blood ran cold. Wufei set the box down harshly, listening intently for sounds coming from inside the apartment. "Go downstairs quick and find Trowa, tell him what's happening, and call the police from the front desk. Go quickly, got it?"  
  
Quatre shuddered but shook his head no. "No! Wufei what if he breaks out of the room? What if he hurts you! No, I couldn't allow-." Wufei put his hands on his friends' shoulders grasping him firmly. "Then it'll just be another charge of assault added to the list. And besides, he's no third Dan at anything." Wufei smiled cynically. "If he touches me he'll regret it. And I won't let him touch you again. Now go quickly!" Quatre nodded and turned to jog toward the stairs. Turning back one last time he cast a glance at Wufei who was listening tensely at the door. "Wufei, are you cer-." The young Chinese gave him a small glare and jerked his finger in the way of the stairs. "Go now or I'll beat you my self!" Quatre nodded, that being enough motivation for anyone set off at a fast jog, getting faster as he went, almost skidding on the turn around the next bend in the hall. When at last the top of the stairs was in sight, he let out a relieved breath releasing a bundle of pent up nerves. He was almost there, though he still worried for Wufei he knew that if he didn't get help not only could he endanger Wufei, but he could also endanger himself again. He felt a few moments of panic crawl into his chest making his heart ache in it's' cage for a moment, before he stopped it, standing up straight.  
  
Wufei needed back up now; he didn't have time to panic. As he jogged the last few steps to the stairs he suddenly heard the heavy beats of feet behind him, and gasped turning with horror too lately recognizing the sound. He was thrown to the ground as the massive weight of another body crashed into him. His body turned only halfway before he fell, knocking the breath out of him, and making it impossible to cry out when he landed painfully on his hip. With the impact of loosing his breath momentarily, he stared horrified into the deep gray eyes of his ex-lover.  
  
'Scream!' He shouted at himself as he stared into the cold, furious eyes of the man he once thought he could love. 'Scream before he finishes what he started!!' He drug in a breath twisting and wriggling trying to unseat his attacker. The man would have none of that. A strong crushing hand clamped over Quatre's mouth, bruising the still tender flesh and silencing his prey. Quatre's eyes widened in terror and he wrestled his attacker all the more. The man smiled down at him, then settled all of his weight on Quatre's body. "Oh, I don't think so, not after what happened last time angel. Your not going anywhere without me, babe. Do you understand?" He flexed the hand holding Quatre's mouth silent, forcing the tender flesh of Quatre's cheeks to grind against his teeth. The cold coiled in his belly, and Quatre fought back the whimper that was begging to rise from the back of his throat.  
  
Jason picked his weight from Quatre, allowing little reprieve as Quatre sucked in air through his nose. Using one hand Jason harshly grabbed Quatre's small wrists in his hand, moving forward over Quatre he pinned them over the man's head while flattening his hand over them. He leaned down close to Quatre, there noses almost touching. Quatre quivered with the urge to draw back in revulsion. His eyes were trying to see past Jason. Wufei! He wanted to scream, Trowa! "Don't even think about it you little whore!" The grip on both his mouth and wrists tightened harshly, Quatre bucked in pain his cry muffled behind his captors hand.  
  
Jason smiled cruelly; his eyes were as frozen chips of icy intent shining in a dull manner. He looked somewhat crazed as he moved his hand lower. Taking it away from Quatre's mouth and rubbing it gently along his throat. "I saw him in the entry way. I saw you walk in with him; I know why you left now. I know why you abandoned me. Why you wouldn't give me any, you were taking it from him weren't you? Skinny ass little Latino looking fucker and you didn't want it with me did you, you little slut?" His face turned dark, eyes glowing, and his hand unconsciously tightened on Quatre's throat stealing the blonde's breath. Quatre struggled even harder against Jason shaking his head. "You don't understand he's not my bo-!"Tears prickled his eyes and his vision blacked as Jason picked his head up from the floor slamming it down into the hard stone. "Don't you lie you little cunt! Why else would you have gone? I wanted you, I needed you and you wouldn't give it to me! Well, that's all gonna change, just as soon as I take care of your hot shot fuck toy! I've got something right here that'll take care of all his worries for good. And you," He leaned closer biting at Quatre's ear then whispering lowly. "You'll finally give me what I deserve."  
  
"I'll say he will!" Jason looked up momentarily and that's what cost him. Eyes blazing the young Chinese man reared back and kicked Jason in the stomach with all of his might. The large Brunet released Quatre rolling with the kick to ease his pain of the blow and bring back his breath. Quatre scrambled away on his butt his eyes wide and teary. He stared for a moment at the fallen man, and then at his friends face, his eyes tearing more. "Wufei." He half whispered half sobbed.  
  
His friend turned his gaze on him and advanced leaning down and grasping Quatre's fore arms. "Quatre get up now!" His dazed mind processed what his friend had said and wasted no more time. He scrambled to his feet nearly tripping in his haste as he heard the horrible squelching sound of flesh on flesh. No! He didn't want this to happen! He didn't want Wufei to get hurt, he wanted, he wanted, "Trowa!" More tears sprung to his eye's as he finally reached the banister of the stair way. He watched as if in a dream as Trowa and Treize began to race up the stairs. His heart soaring, yes! Thank god! Until he heard the small click, and the cold metal pressed against the base of his neck. "No, little whore, you don't."  
  
"Quatre hold on!" Oh .My .God. Those were the only words that could process in his mind. What the hell was another choice, but he'd rather not involve the devil in this, it would just all go further down hill from there. He had stopped, dead in his tracks Treize stopping just so behind him as they both stared in horror at the man standing behind Quatre. One arm moving around the blonde's shoulders, and the other was holding a walther 380 pqs.  
  
Trowa's mind worked fast, his eyes focused entirely on the blonde man before him. He was trembling, his eyes wide in untold fear, his face had gone pale and colorless and tears were streaming down his face. "Quatre," Trowa said calmly, taking a slight step fore ward. "Don't you fucking move." He stilled immediately, his eyes turning cold as they landed on the man who was holding Quatre at gunpoint. He would have been handsome, his skin was tanned not like Trowa's but he didn't look too pale. His hair was black as pitch, his face had a chiseled decidedly roman look and his eyes were chips of bright granite. He would have looked nice, if he wasn't holding an innocent young man at gunpoint.  
  
"Just take it easy, were not going to do anything." He said tonelessly. Treize stiffened beside him as if unconsciously saying. 'The hell were not!' when he inhaled sharply. Jason began to slowly move down the stairs clutching Quatre to him as though he was a doll or a shield. "I know you won't do anything, fancy Mr. Barton. He's a good little toy to have around isn't he? My little babe here, he's a real treat all 'I don't wan' to bother you 'I don't want to trouble you' and then what does he do?" Trowa and Treize backed slowly down the stairs with each advancing step Jason took, Jason's eyes shined like a mad man as he took his arm from around Quatre, grabbing the blonde by the scruff of the neck, shaking Quatre by his hair. "He goes and shacks up with some Latino looking fucker leaving me high and dry!" Quatre tried to jerk away from the painful pull on his scalp, his nerves burning. "Please stop!" He yelled bringing his fingers up to gauge at Jason's hands and wrists as the threatened to pull out all of his hair. His fingers scored flesh but only for a few moments before he was thrown hard at the floor.  
  
Trowa watched in horror as Jason aimed the gun at the shaking form on the floor. Cocking back the weapon he took aim with precision. "If I can't have you, then no one can, I won't let them angel." Quatre turned on the sound of the gun cocking his pale Aqua eyes widening as he looked at the weapon pointed directly at his heart. "I won't let them." And with that he pulled the trigger.  
  
AN: Yay! I left you at another cliff hanger!! But I have the next chappi all typed and raring to go so I won't make you wait too long this time. I think I could have done better with this chappi myself, but I have just been having a really bad time sorting things out. Oh well, the next one is coming up soon so don't you worry. Please give me your thoughts and any constructive criticism you can think of. Thanks and Ja Ne!!   
  
Explanations for the Gun The 380 PQS is a real gun, it was brought to the publics attention as the favorite hand gun of the international man of mystery James Bond ((played First by Shaun Conery and then Pierce Brosnen)) I wanted to use a specific gun type to show that there was something cool to Trowa besides the sexy doctor thing. But how does our law abiding Doctor know about guns o.0? That and I wanted to give it more description than 'the small black gun'. Oh, and BTW I don't really believe that Trowa is Latino, though a whole lot of fangirl's seem to like that idea. I've always thought he was either French or maybe German though I doubt that. 


	5. Chapter Five

Never Stop: By: Vanacorien  
  
All warnings posted on previous chapters.  
  
AN: Wow, I said it was ready, and it is. That's gotta be some kind of record for me huh? Anyway here is the conclusion to the cliffhanger that I left last time. R&R and please enjoy!  
  
Chapter 5 of Never Stop:  
  
Succumbing to Despair  
  
More than one panicked scream was heard above the cracking sound of the shot. The agonized scream of the wounded was not something that anyone had contemplated though. As the gun skittered away from Jason's hand. The madman fell backwards on the stairs, his broken wrist clutched tightly to his body as he looked up in seething agony. Trowa stood over him, fists slightly raised despite the relaxed air he assumed. His one visible eye was glowing in fierce anger, and for the briefest of seconds Jason felt a cold finger of fear stab into his heart, as tears of pain rolled down his face. The loss of his adrenaline fueled rage had began to take it's toll, and Jason wanted to curl up on himself as the pain of his snapped bone made it's self heard loud and clear. To his right Quatre made a soft keening sound as he curled up in a fetal position on the floor shaking. Trowa took his eyes off Jason as soon as Treize moved past him, yanking the injured man to his feet despite his protests. "I don't give a damn what he did to you, where is Wufei?!" "Here!" Came the slightly pained call and Treize wasted no time in starting up the stairs, throwing Jason down behind him. "Wufei!"  
  
Trowa kneeled gently next to Quatre as the blonde pulled his knees up to his chest wrapping his arms around them then burying his head in them. He was still making that small lost kenning sound and Trowa's heart ached, flashes of what Quatre had first looked like and how he had first acted when Trowa had met him came flooding back. He turned angry eyes on the man who was slowly scrambling to his feet with out the use of his right hand. He stood, eyes cold and filled with intent as he walked calmly toward the now still man, the sound of his heels clicking with every step he took. "Where do you think you going?" He asked coldly stepping up so that he stood above Jason.  
  
His fists flexed and clenched with the need to hit the man. To repay him the damage he did Quatre, to make him suffer as his friend was suffering. "Well? You aren't going to answer me?" He growled, grasping the back of Jason's jacket he jerked hard, gaining the satisfaction of hearing the man gulp oddly as the collar choked him slightly.  
  
He hadn't noticed that Quatre had stopped keening, hadn't notice the young man look up, while new tears burned their way down his already hot skin. Trowa yanked Jason up against the banister, causing the wrought iron to creak, and the man clutching his injured limb to whimper slightly. "Enough of your whining, I don't want to hear another sound from you. Your disgusting sadism was disgraceful enough." Jason's face twisted back into its hard mask of anger. "Shut your mouth you damn spic!"  
  
Trowa's palm cracked hard against Jason's face. His eyes were cold, like dark and searing jade cutting through Jason's harsh words. "And I've had more than enough from you." His pain temporarily forgotten Jason lashed out with his right fist intending to send Trowa reeling backwards. Trowa easily side stepped his fist, and drove his own straight into Jason's unguarded stomach. The man fell to is knees instinctively catching himself on both hands only to scream in pain as he rolled off of his broken limb.  
  
"Trowa!" He was stopped from his fast turn by the soft bundle pressed hard into his back. Slim arms wound tightly around his waist and Quatre pressed his face into Trowa's back muffling his words. "Please stop! No more, I don't want to see any more! Please!" Anger boiled in Trowa, he turned in Quatre's arms and grasped the young man by his shoulders. "Quatre why? After all he's done-!" Trowa broke off motioning at the now unconscious man at their feet.  
  
"I know what he's done to me!" Trowa look down at the top of Quatre's head, his eyes a little wide as the young man before him shuddered and sobbed. "I . . . I know what he's done. I know what he should get and I know, I know that you would be only too happy to do it." Trowa stood still, processing what Quatre had just said. "Then Why . . ." Quatre's arms tightened around the brunette cutting of the rest of whatever he might have been about to say. Quatre raised his head. And his swimming aqua eyes hardened slightly in resolve. "Because, I just want this to end. I want it to be over with." Trowa opened his mouth to speak when a cough was heard from the top of the stairs.  
  
Both turned eyes onto the two figures standing there. Wufei was leaning into Treize, his bottom lip was split and a dark bruise shadowed his left cheek. He didn't even look to be the slightest bit frazzled. But his eyes shined as they settled on Quatre and the upset tone in his voice was a loud and clear call. "It is over Quatre. Mrs. Harris from B 22 has called the police. They'll be here shortly." Quatre nodded slightly then looked down to his feet. He seemed to be worrying hard over something. Then he lifted his head and his eyes were shining with tears. "But I didn't want to involve the police in this."  
  
"You won't have too." Treize walked slowly down the stairs his arm wrapped tightly around Wufei. When he reached the landing he gave Quatre a small smile. "Mrs. Harris called because as she was heading out when she saw Jason attack Wufei. It's his case of assault that she called in about. We kept you out of it." "That doesn't mean he should stay out of it." Treize snapped hard sapphire eyes to Trowa as the younger man looked unblinkingly to him. "Are you suggesting that we go against his wishes and tell the police of his assault on Quatre?"  
  
Trowa looked from Treize's obviously angered face and into Quatre's swimming eyes. He nodded his head slightly. "I think it should have been reported long ago." Treize took a step forward but was pulled back by a slightly smiling Wufei. "Let the man finish Treize." He admonished nodding towards Trowa. Trowa nodded back then looked to Treize, whom had slightly lost some of his steam. "But, I was referring to Wufei's attack, Quatre witnessed it." Trowa looked down, tilting Quatre's chin up gently. "Do you think that you could tell the police what happened tonight? Or would you rather go back to my apartment?"  
  
Instead of answer, Quatre unwrapped himself from Trowa's embrace, slowly relaxing his arms. "Do you have the key to the mail box?" He asked Trowa quietly holding out his hand. Trowa nodded placing the keys gently in the blondes' hand. Quatre turned and tossed the ring to Treize who was staring slightly. He nodded slightly and looked straight at Wufei. "Trowa's apartment is in Manhattan. It's the Wilshire Towers, penthouse 0387. Send the cops there tomorrow and I'll be more than happy to give my statement." Wufei nodded slightly and then smiled. "I suppose I'll see you later then." He said quietly. They all heard the sirens not far off, wailing in the distance a loud and clear warning. Quatre smiled gently at both of his friends and then took Trowa's arm. "Come on then, let's go home." Trowa had never been happier to hear those words.  
  
AN: I am sooo sorry for this chapter. I'm writing it while I'm on vacation and my family is harassing me to spend time with them so I have to stop here. I really am sorry and I hope you don't hate me for this chapter. Oh, I still have that new poll on my bio page if you would be kind enough to participate. Thank you. And see you next chapter. 


	6. Chapter Six

AN: It was really hard writing this chap. I had to figure out a proper time frame for all the events to take place. I decided that Trowa and Quatre had gone to retrieve his things at a little past say 11-ish in the morning and the whole fight and every thing took them about an hour and a half if even that. So you gotta realize it's been a long time . . . but I'm spoiling the chap. Don't worry, I'll explain more at the bottom. See ya there!

**Chapter 6 of Never stop: **

Second bump and curious bystanders 

It was 12:30 p.m. when Trowa and Quatre returned to the apartment. And in all that time after, Trowa hadn't seen hide or hair of his friend. After Trowa and Quatre had fled the apartment building Quatre had seemed very off. Trowa understood that he shouldn't be surprised , what with the day he had it was more than a little mind bending as well. By now he was willing to bet that Quatre had shattered a hundred mirrors and walked under ten ladders to end up with luck like this. He probably owned a black cat named Smokey too, just as icing on the cake.

But the extent of the young mans behavior made Trowa worry even more. He was silent the whole ride back, as had he been on the way down. When they got to the apartment, he had gone into the spare bedroom and told Trowa to please stay out and that they would talk when he got out. That had been at twelve thirty, and it was now ten o' clock at night. Trowa didn't want to upset Quatre, and he didn't want to give the young man any reason to be even the least bit mad at him. But nine and a half hours was a helluva long time to take a nap. He knocked gently on the bedroom door, waiting to hear even the slightest response. Nothing returned his call, and he knocked again a little louder this time. "Quatre? Quatre, may I come in?"

He still didn't receive an answer, he was starting to worry even more than he already was, and he called again and knocked louder still not hearing anything. "Quatre, answer me, can I come in?" Nothing answered him, and Trowa did not hesitate to open the door and walk right in. He looked around the darkened room. Not a light had been turned on in the room. The curtains were drawn as they had been before, the bed was made. Everything was seemingly normal, with the exception of the missing Quatre. Trowa began to panic mind racing as he looked around the room for any clue to the whereabouts of the young man.

"Quatre?!" called Trowa loudly, walking across the hard wood and tearing open the closest door. The only thing that answered him was the sound of the rushing shower. He sighed; somewhat relieved as he suddenly remembered the guest bedroom had its own bathroom. He reached for the knob and turned the door, entering and closing it behind him with a small click. To his surprise the bathroom wasn't that full of steam. Though the sound of water, rushing against the tiles and swirling down the drain was still there the water had apparently turned cold. Had Quatre really been in there all that long? The water only turned cold after hours of use. The lights had been turned dim, casting the room in shadow. He looked to the tub which was set next to the door to his right, seeing that Quatre had folded his clothes over the rim and placed his shoes neatly against the wall. There were no towels laid out, and the only thing in the room that could be seen clearly, was the petite form curled into a tight ball in the corner of the glass door shower. A cold hand gripped Trowa as the form didn't move, didn't even look to be breathing. He walked softly closer, waiting for the young blond to react as he assumed he normally would. Blush furiously and tell him to get out, or in Quatre's case to 'please leave'. "Quatre?" Trowa walked over to the shower opening the door, the blonde didn't look up, simply sitting there starring at the white tiled wall. Trowa reached through the wall of water and was surprised when his arms were soaked through with ice cold water.

"What in the world!" He reached for the knobs turning them off quickly, he crawled into the shower kneeling before Quatre. The blonde's eyes were puffy, and blood shot. His face was pale except for two rosy spots on his cheek and his slightly swollen eyes. He didn't say a word to Trowa, and the doctors' alarm escalated. Gently he reached out his hands to Quatre, grasping the blonde's shoulders. "Quatre? What are you doing? This isn't good for you, your going to catch a cold." He received no response. The man simply didn't seem to hear him, he just sat there. Almost catatonic, and that's when Trowa noticed them. Amongst the bruises and a small cut on his wrist that looked to be from someone digging there finger nails. There were red marks from the man's shoulders to his torso. His whole upper body was red, blotched almost looking like a case of eczema that got out of hand.

"Oh god, Quatre what have you done?!" He cried, but he could guess. The skin had been rubbed raw in places, and the water must have been just about as hot as the young blonde could stand in order for it to do this damage. Quickly, he grabbed the young man up in his arms the soaked body of his friend limp as rag doll in his arms. Trowa could feel the chill on Quatre's skin as he held him close. His friends wetness soaked though his shirt and to his skin.

Trowa fumbled with the knob as he looked for answers to the boys' state. The boys head lolled and for a split second his frantic mind was convinced that the boy had stopped breathing. He hurriedly walked across the room, setting Quatre upon the bed ripping back the heavy covers with a muttered curse. He slid the thin boy between the sheets. His main concern for the moment being restoring the boy's lost body heat. He quickly stripped off his shirt then his Jeans leaving his boxers in place for Quatre's modesty. To his surprise Quatre had rolled over to face him as Trowa undressed, his blank aqua eyes shining dully. "Trowa?" He said, and he sounded so absolutely breathless that Trowa wondered if he had tried something drastic. There was a small medicine cabinet in the bathroom. He kept it stocked with minor things. But any one could OD on aspirin or IB Profane. Did Quatre . . .? NO!

"Quatre?" He said worriedly. Sliding in next to the blonde he quickly pulled Quatre to him. Hugging the blonde to his chest and trying not to listen to the part of his brain that told him how Quatre seemed to fit perfectly as he wrapped his arms around him. The blonde boy didn't seem as disturbed to have Trowa holding him as he should have. Didn't seem to mind at all in fact. "Quatre, what's wrong? What happened while you were in the shower?" He said , a little breathless himself as he rubbed his hand up and down Quatre's back trying to cause heat from the friction. There was no response for a long moment. Trowa gently slid one of Quatre's arms out from the hallow made by both of there bodies feeling for any strange tardiness or unusual rapidness in the young man's pulse. He sighed as he felt Quatre's pulse, a little slow but steady. Suddenly, Quatre bulled his head into the juncture of Trowa's shoulder and neck his body suddenly shaking. Trowa dropped the other's hand as he wound his arms tighter around the other man. He looked at the far wall for a short time, surprised by the suddenness of Quatre's movements. He snapped out of his small shock as he felt small drops of warm liquid rolling down his shoulder. The man in his arms began to moan pitifully and it was all Trowa could do not to crush the boy to him. "Quatre," He said softly. The blonde stiffened sniffing slightly. "What?" was his watery urge to continue and he did so biting his lips softly. "What happened?"

Quatre snorted mirthlessly at the innocent question. What happened, indeed? He shuddered in his friends arms as he clutched tighter to the man's bare skin. Savoring despite himself the warmness of the other's body. It didn't matter; he should try to keep it as long as he could. It wouldn't last very long. Quatre buried his head deeper into Trowa's shoulder shaking his head no. He didn't want to explain it to Trowa, Trowa wouldn't understand it. He couldn't, hadn't experienced it himself so how could he? "I don't, nothing. It's just today, meeting him again like. And it, he."

Well so much for lack of explanation huh? He shuddered again as he felt more soft tears roll down his face. Why couldn't he stop crying? Why couldn't he have done something besides let a mad man hold him at gun point? Why was he so damn weak? "Quatre?" The insistence in Trowa's voice made him push away slightly so that he could look into the brunette doctor's face. Trowa was looking down on him. Much like the first time he had held Quatre to him. Quatre could only remember flashes of the first time they had met. In the cab Trowa had held Quatre close to his body for warmth. And one of Quatre's most coherent memories of the ride had been when Trowa had looked down at him with the most agonizingly kind expression he had ever seen. Even now those eyes reflected that kindness, and Quatre couldn't take it anymore.

He pressed hard against Trowa's chest trying to pry himself out of the man's arms head bent and, tears flowing. "Why? Why are you looking at me like that? With so much kindness and understanding. I don't deserve that kind of look. Why are you giving it to me?" Trowa tried his best to keep him still but Quatre wanted escape. He needed it. Why couldn't Trowa see that he was too weak to be worth that kind of affection? The kindness was wasted on him. He didn't deserve it. He was a weakling that couldn't even defend himself from a psychotic ex-boyfriend, let alone his own friends! "Enough Quatre, no more talk like that!"

Quatre blinked and stilled, allowing Trowa to pull him back towards his body without protest. Suddenly it dawned on him that he must have spoken aloud his thoughts and his face flushed hotly. Trowa shifted suddenly. Rolling on to his back he pulled Quatre halfway on halfway off his chest, wrapping his right arm around Quatre's shoulders folding his left across his stomach to loop around Quatre's waist. The blond blushed at the new position but soon forgot it as Trowa began to speak. "Please, don't say such things about yourself. You are a kind, shy person, there's nothing wrong with that. There's nothing wrong with you." Quatre let out a dark laugh.

"What are you talking about? Did you see what I did the whole time he held a gun to my head? I stood there. I stood there, and placed all of you in danger! I risked all of you like that and it's unacceptable!" There was a palpable silence. Quatre lay there on Trowa's chest, his fingers curling in on themselves of there own volition. The silence was beginning to weigh on Quatre and his mind started to race. Trowa was silent, did he agree with Quatre? Of course, he saw what Quatre did, he saw how horrified he was. Anyone would have to agree with him after that. "Quatre," Said Trowa quietly, almost as if to himself. Quatre hesitated for a moment then answered. "Yes?"

Trowa sat up, forcing Quatre up with him and took his face in both hands. Vivid green eyes stared intently at Quatre as if taking stock. "Are you trying to tell me it was unacceptable for me to have feared for your life?" Quatre blinked surprised. "But that's different-." Trowa placed a finger on his lips and Quatre fell silent. "No, Quatre, it's not. Wufei, Treize and I all feared for your safety. We were all afraid, and the fact that you were afraid shouldn't disgust you at all."

"But how can you say that?" He asked angrily looking deep into the others face. "He beat Wufei and I ran! I didn't even raise a finger to help him! And when he caught me by the stairs, I was frozen, I couldn't do anything! I was just standing there whimpering like some child when I should have at least, at least-"Quatre's eyes were swimming with tears. He hated this! He hated being so emotional, so weak. No wonder he had been an easy target for people like Jason. Trowa wrapped his arms tighter around Quatre and began to rock him gently. Against his will his arms curled themselves around the others abdomen. Slowly as he cried against Trowa's shoulder, Quatre found himself shifting closer and closer to the other's warm body.

Before long Quatre was sitting soundly in Trowa's lap, and though the brunette had stopped rocking the boy his nearness was enough to calm the blonde. They sat like that for hours; Trowa gently brushing his fingers through Quatre's pale hair as the blonde lay snuggled in his arms. He watched over the blonde even after he fell asleep simply thinking. _Well,_ he mused to himself as he pulled the comforter around the both of them to stave off the chill. _At least he didn't react badly to finding himself naked in my bed again. _ Looking down at the man huddled to his chest, he experienced a flash of deja vu . Settling him self back into the pillows more comfortably he smiled slightly and yawned. "We have to stop meeting like this Mr. Winner." He said aloud to himself. As he drifted to sleep, softly cradling his battered angel in his arms.

AN: What do you think? As far as all that stuff with the time, I was going to make it late at night. Enough time for Trowa to be worrying over for sure. And at first I had trouble trying to figure out a time frame. I think I got it right but I'll let you decide. As far as Quatre being totally out of it for the first part of the chapter. No, he didn't take anything. I wouldn't drug my Q-chan. I chalk it up to exhaustion and the fact that his shower had been cold for about nine hours. That's a pretty long time to be cold. And I don't know about you guys but when it gets really cold I get exhausted pretty quickly. Could just be me. Well R&R if you please. I haven't been getting a lot of feedback on this it's making me wonder if I should keep this story going. Well anyway carry on.

Owari


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